The business of river-driving is not so agreeable as other departments of labor in the lumbering operations, though equally important, and also, in many respects, intensely interesting. The hands left at the camps at the time the team breaks up, to make the necessary instruments for river-driving, are soon joined with the addition of such forces as are requisite for an expeditious drive. As in most labor performed there is a directing and responsible head, so is it in river-driving; here, too, we have our "boss."
As early as April, and sometimes the last of March, the high ascending sun begins to melt the snow on the south of mountain and hill sides, flowing intervales and lowlands, forming considerable rivers, where at other seasons of the year the insignificant little brook wound its stealthy course among the alders, hardly of a capacity to float the staff of a traveler; but, at the period referred to, by a little previous labor in cutting away the bushes and removing some of the stones in its channel, it is made capable of floating large logs, with the occasional assistance of a dam to flow shoal places.
In brook-driving it is necessary to begin early, in order to get the logs into the more ample current of the main river while the freshet is yet up. In some cases, therefore, as a necessary step, the ice in the channel of the brook is cut out, opening a passage of sufficient width to allow three or four logs to float side by side. In forming a landing on the margin of such streams, the trees and bushes are cut and cleared out of the way for several rods back, and a considerable distance up and down, according to the number of logs to be hauled into it. To facilitate the sawing of the logs into suitable lengths for driving, as well as more especially to form bed-pieces upon which to roll them into the brook in the spring, a great many skids are cut and laid parallel with each other, running at right angles to the margin of the stream. On these landings, in the spring, the water is from one to two feet deep, the cause of which is sometimes accounted for from the fact that in the autumn the water is quite low, and the ice, in forming, is attached to the grass and bushes, which prevent it from rising; the result is, that the whole is overflowed in the spring. Into the channel thus cut the logs are rolled, as fast as it can be cleared, by shoving those already in down stream, until the brook, for a mile or more, is filled with new and beautiful logs.
No part of the driving business is so trying to the constitution, perhaps, as clearing such a landing. It often occupies a week, during which all hands are in the water, in depth from the ankle to the hips, exerting themselves to the utmost, lifting with heavy pries, hand-spikes, and cant-dogs, to roll these massive sticks into the brook channel. The water at this season is extremely chilly, so much so that a few moments' exposure deprives the feet and legs of nearly all feeling, and the individual of power to move them, so that it often becomes necessary to assist each other to climb upon a log, where a process of thumping, rubbing, and stamping restores the circulation and natural power of motion. This effected, they jump in and at it again.
When the water is too shallow on any part of a stream to float the logs, dams are constructed to flow the water back, with gates which can be opened and shut at pleasure, and either through the apertures of the gates or sluice-ways made for the purpose, the logs are run. This dam answers the same purpose in raising the water to float the logs below as above, on the brook. Shutting the gates, a large pond of water is soon accumulated; then hoisting them, out leaps the hissing element, foaming and dashing onward like a tiger leaping upon his prey. Away the logs scamper, reminding one of a flock of frightened sheep fleeing before the wolf. Some logs are so cumbersome that they remain unmoved, even with this artificial accumulation of water. In such cases, embracing the moment when the water is at its highest pitch, in we leap, and, thrusting our hand-spikes beneath them, bow our shoulders to the instrument, often stooping so low as to kiss the curling ripples as they dance by. In this way, sometimes by a few inches at a time, and sometimes by the rod, we urge them over difficult places; while, in connection with the annoyance of very cold water, broken fragments of ice mingle in the melée, imposing sundry thumps and bruises upon the benumbed limbs of the enduring river-driver.
In some places, on low, swampy land, a body of water accumulates several rods wide, and from three to ten feet deep. Here the logs, as if to play "hide and seek," run in among the bushes, giving infinitely more trouble than amusement. Under such circumstances, it becomes necessary for the men to keep on the logs most of the time; and as logs roll very easily in the water, and are often extremely slippery, it requires the balancing skill of a wire-dancer to keep on them; and often some luckless wight, whether he will or no, plunges over head and ears into the flood as he is whirled from the back of some ticklish log; and, however unwelcome to himself, no sooner is his head above water than he hears the wild woods echo the jeering laugh of his more fortunate comrades.
In other places, where banks are too abrupt to allow the team to pass on to the river, the logs are unloaded and rolled down in one general mass; the first few fall upon the ice, others rolling against them; the main body fall back and accumulate in great numbers. To break or clear such a landing is often very dangerous. While at work prying on the foremost, large masses start suddenly, and often the only way of escape is to spring in advance of the rushing pile and plunge the river. "I saw one poor fellow," said a logger, "hurled into eternity very suddenly while at work on one of those jams. Co-operating with others in an attempt to roll a stick from the pile, the main lever gave way, and the stick slipped back. This person used a single hand-spike, holding up the upper end and sallying back. When the log rolled back it caused the hand-spike to spring forward, and, before he had time to relinquish his grasp, it flung him headlong forward, like an arrow from the hunter's bow, down the embankment into the water; when recovered, he was dead. It was supposed that some internal injury was inflicted by the sudden ejectment, which caused him to suffocate more readily in the water. Rarely could the man be found his equal in physical energy; but strength opposes no barrier to death."
Logs are now driven down streams whose navigation for such purposes was formerly regarded as impracticable—some from their diminutive size, and others from their wild, craggy channel. There is a stream of the latter description, called "Nesourdnehunk," which disembogues into the Penobscot on the southwest side of Mount Ktaadn, whose foaming waters leap from crag to crag, or roll in one plunging sheet down perpendicular ledges between two mountains. On one section of this stream, said to be about half a mile in length, there is a fall of three hundred feet. In some places it falls twenty-five feet perpendicularly. Down this wild pass logs are run, rolling, dashing, and plunging, end over end, making the astonished forest echo with their rebounding concussion.
It would be a match for "Dame Nature" to locate a handsome Pine-tree beyond the grasp of the logmen. Where the Eastern hunter pursues the mountain goat, the logger would pursue the stately Pine. We have seen them in the deep ravine, on the abrupt hill-top, and far up the rugged mountain side, or peering down from some lofty cliff upon the insignificant animal at its base who is contemplating its sacrifice; a few minutes, and the crash of its giddy plunge is heard, "and swells along the echoing crag," causing the earth to tremble under the stroke of its massive trunk; and if it does not break in pieces, as is sometimes the case, in falling, it will in time find its way to the slip of the saw-mill. The resolution, daring, skill, and physical force of the men engaged in this business can find no rival, to say the least, in any body or class of men whatever.
In many cases logs are hauled on to the ice of the lakes, streams, and rivers, instead of being left upon the banks or landing-places. When hauled on to the lakes, they are laid together as compactly as possible, and inclosed in a "boom," which is made by fastening the ends of the trunks of long trees, so as to prevent them from scattering over the lake on the breaking up of the ice. A strong bulk-head or raft is constructed of the logs, with a capstan or windlass for the purpose of warping the whole forward in a calm, or when the wind is ahead. In this operation, two or three men take an anchor into the boat, to which, of course, the warp is attached, when they row out to the extent of the rope, let go the anchor, and haul up by working the windlass. Sometimes a tempest breaks up the boom, and the logs are scattered, which gives much trouble, and not unfrequently causes a delay of one year before they reach the mills.